Murphy's Law
by raisaru13
Summary: Satori was just fine with her life, until her father hired a new guy to work in her department. Now her days are spent trying to avoid a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed, bane of her life idiot named Naruto. Naruto, however, hates being avoided. narusasu?


Wow, this is a long first chapter. I wanted to cut this in half, but I just couldn't find the right place to do it. Some background info for this story . . . I got the idea from a dream. No lie. Though it wasn't nearly this long or detailed. Also, Satori isn't really an OC. She's like a female Sasuke. I originally planned for her to actually _be_ Sasuke, but then I thought: what if I want their relationship to go . . . deeper? Not that I'm against yaoi, I do read it, but I couldn't write it without being embarrassed. For those who were hoping, sorry. No yaoi. But you can always use your imaginations.

I would also like to say that I promise no quick updates. Or even an update at all. But I do plan to at least get the first part of this story done, as a personal challenge. Of course, I love having feedback, even if it's just to tell me I used incorrect grammer. So yeah. But me on alert if you want, but don't get your hopes up.

Thanks.

* * *

Satori slowly looked around the corner, doing her best not to be noticed. It was Monday, the start of a new work week, and she was determined to make a good start. And that meant not running into a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed, _bane_ of her _life_,idiot named Naruto.

Seeing the coast was clear, she sighed and stepped out of the elevator. She wasn't sure why she was so worried; Naruto was almost always late for work, especially on Mondays. She shouldn't have to worry about him for another hour or so yet. But it never hurt to be careful.

She strode carefully to the reception desk, doing her best to look cool and confident. Setting her bag onto the counter, she made an effort to nonchalantly smooth out her blouse as she greeted her receptionist.

"Good morning Sakura. Do I have any messages?"

The pink-haired receptionist looked up and smiled. If Satori hadn't known better, she would have thought that wasn't her natural hair color; however, she had never heard her mention getting it done, nor did her hair look dull or flat from years of coloring it.

Well, whatever the case was, Satori was sure the company wouldn't have stood for the unorthodox color, except that Sakura was amazingly good at her job and Satori had certain connections with the higher-ups. A.k.a.: her father owned the company.

"Good morning Miss Uchiha! You're looking lovely, as always. You only have one message. Mr. Uchiha says the project you're working on is due by the end of the week. He says he can't wait any longer."

Satori stopped eyeing her hair in the mirror that Sakura kept on her desk to give her receptionist a wide-eyed look.

"The end of the week?" she repeated, scandalized. "I just started the project _last_ week! I was told I would have until the end of the month! How does he expect me to pitch ideas for him if I don't have enough time to _think_ of any?" Satori huffed angrily. "It's bad enough I have to try and convince _Chinese_ consumers to buy expensive products from an American company, but now I virtually have _no_ time to figure out how to do it!"

Sakura sat hunched in her chair, looking up at her guiltily. Satori realized she was ranting to the wrong person, and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Excuse me, Sakura, I didn't mean to get mad at you. Thank you for informing me. I'll be in my office for the rest of the day if I'm needed. But unless it's about the project, I don't want to hear it."

And with that she picked up her bag and strode down the hall. Her office was at the end of a large room (an entire floor, in fact), with large work tables in the center and small rooms on either side. Those were the rooms her employees worked in, thought she rarely visited them herself. If she wanted an audience with someone, she summoned them to her own office.

Her door was only a few feet away now. She already had her office keys out, ready to get in and shut the door as quickly as possible. For some reason, she could almost feel Naruto's presence, and she wanted to be in the clear as soon as possible. Once she was locked in her office, no one would be able to disturb her.

It took her only a moment to unlock the door, step inside, and relock it again with a satisfying 'click.' There. All set. She let out a small, relieved sigh.

Wearily, she hung her coat up on the hook by the door and set down her bag before making her way behind her large, mahogany desk. She settled back in her chair and eyed the large pile of paper work stacked in the corner of it, grimacing. She hadn't even finished _yesterday's_ papers, much less all _those_.

"This day is going to be so _boring_," she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Then you agree this whole thing was stupid, right?"

She whipped around, heart hammering in her chest. She half expected to find some psycho kidnapper there, grinning horribly and wielding a knife. Her brain rushed—could she contact Sakura in time? How had he gotten in here? Then she saw him. It was—

"_Naruto_!"

Said intruder grinned widely. Satori straightened with a look in her eyes that could have melt glaciers, though the tone of her voice was enough to freeze any normal man's blood.

"What the _hell_ are you doing in here?"

Naruto wasn't a normal man.

"Waiting for you, of course," he said innocently. "What else?"

It wasn't a lie. He _had_ been waiting, though his original plan had been to confront her, not spook her.

In fact, Naruto made a _point_ of getting to work early that morning. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered—normally he would have been deliberately late, just to tick off a certain favorite boss of his. But lately he hadn't seen very much of her. It seemed like by the time he got to work—whether on time or not—she would already be locked away in her office, and he wouldn't see her again until it was time to go home.

Naruto wasn't what you'd call book-smart, but he knew when someone was avoiding him. Naruto _hated_ being avoided.

So, resolutely, he set his clock for an _agonizing_ 6 o'clock, blearily rode the subway to work while drinking his second can of Monster energy drink (he couldn't stand coffee, and he needed something to jump-start his day), and carefully sneaked past Sakura (how could she _get_ here so early?) and used his _special_ set of spare keys to get into Satori's office. After that he crashed onto the large, plush sofa to wait.

It was kind of boring, waiting in there. Satori's office wasn't nearly as fun or colorful as his. _His_ office was stuffed with pictures of his friends, questionably-themed calendars, and posters of his favorite bands and TV shows. Satori's office . . . wasn't.

The furniture consisted of dark mahogany wood and neutral earth toned upholsteries. The thick carpet was a cream color, and the walls were empty except for a few black-and-white photos and picturesque paintings that would have seemed tasteful and classy to anybody else except him. He just thought they were boring. Her office reminded him of a stuffy hotel lobby: formal and impersonal.

It has an _awesome_ couch, though, he thought as he spread out. He only had a tiny loveseat in his (and he'd had to put on the extra charm to be allowed to get it in the first place), but it was as lumpy as all get-out. Sitting on that thing was counter-productive, as it only made him sore. But _this_. . .

No _wonder_ she could stand staying in there all the time.

But he was digressing.

"Stop playing around Uzumaki," she snarled. "How did you get in here? What did you think you were doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

He ignored the first question, and widened his eyebrows innocently at the second.

"Why Satori, I was hardly sneaking up on you. I've just been lying here the whole time." He stretched out, taking up the whole couch, grinning from ear to ear as if he'd made the best joke in the world.

Satori was not laughing.

"Stop dodging my questions Uzumaki! I'm not in the mood for your games."

"I'm not playing any games. In fact, I'm not having much fun at all." He sat up, the maniac grin now gone, and replaced with a fake pout. "Do you know _why_?"

Oh yes, she had a fairly good idea why. Not that she would admit it. Instead, she returned to her seat, turning it stiffly away from him to face the desk. She plopped the stack of paper in front of her promptly, hoping he'd get the hint and leave.

Naruto was never one to take hints.

"You see Satori," he went right on, as if she weren't very obviously trying to ignore him. "I've noticed that I haven't been seeing a certain co-worker of mine as often as I used to, and I just can't fathom why. I keep getting the sneaking suspicion that she might just be _ignoring_ me. Can you imagine why that might be?"

That last line sounded almost angry, like he was forcing it through his teeth. While she couldn't believe he was actually upset (he was never more than put-out at worst), she wasn't going to take that kind of tone from him.

She turned sharply, irritably, to face him, and instead found herself facing his waist. She flinched at his proximity, and glanced up to glare at him. His arms were crossed, and his eyes didn't hold their usual humor, though he never stopped smiling.

Her anger abruptly dried up, along with her courage, and she faced away from him again. Uncomfortable with his closeness, she scooted her chair in as far as possible.

"I'm not your _co-worker_, I'm your _boss_. Remember that. And don't call me Satori."

"So you admit that you're avoiding me!"

His act was off, and now he really did sound affronted.

"I didn't admit anything."

"You're not denying it either."

He made his way around the desk, before plopping down in the opposing chair. Deliberately, he lifted his feet to rest them on the immaculate surface of the desk. She frowned at the offending feet. But she knew better than to tell him to put them down; if she let him know it annoyed her, nothing short of physical confrontation would get them down again.

"You should learn not to take every little thing I do personally, Uzumaki. I had a perfectly functional life before you came along and—"

She quickly snapped her mouth shut. She wasn't about to let anything else slip—he could interpret what she _had_ said however he wanted. She looked away from him to pretend to concentrate on the papers. Not that she could even think straight when he was staring at her like that.

. . . She could have phrased that last part better.

Suddenly she tensed. Not because he had spoken, or even moved, but because she could _feel_ him smirking. She'd known him for long enough now that she had grown a sixth sense when it came to him. She could tell when he was grinning, smirking, plotting, silently mocking . . . She couldn't even say she was paranoid because he was always doing one of those things anyway.

"Are you _honestly_ here because you feel slighted that I haven't been spending _every_ _waking_ _**hour**_ with you?" she snapped. She wasn't trying to start a conversation, but her stomach was starting to clench from the tension, and she could even tolerate pointless banter with the idiot if meant she could avoid the awkward feeling.

"What, a guy can't care so deeply for his work that he comes early?" She wasn't looking, but she knew he had a (fake) insulted look, and he probably had placed an offended hand on his chest, just for effect.

"You? _Work_? Hardly." She snorted. "You sit around and _disturb_ everyone until we get something scratched together for you to pitch."

"That's not all I do!" he shouted indignantly. She grimaced—how could _anyone_ be so _loud_?

"Oh, excuse me. I also forgot your adamant desire to flirt with anything in a skirt."

"_Now_ you see my true talents for what they are!" he said proudly.

"It's unprofessional, Uzumaki."

"I'm boosting moral!"

"You're _distracting_."

"Is that a _complement_?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"No."

Satori quickly pressed the receptionist button before he could retaliate.

"Sakura, has my brother called back yet?" she said, making a point to look busy so that maybe the dobe would _leave_.

Sakura hesitated, sensing her boss's strained tone. "No ma'am. I've left him numerous messages, but he's not answering any of them."

Satori sighed in frustration. "Of course he's not. He's probably found himself another blonde-haired bimbo to spend company money on."

"A _blonde_-haired bimbo, ma'am? In . . . _China_?"

"He'd find a way. Very well, inform me as soon as he calls back. _If_ he does."

"Yes, Miss Uchiha. Very well ma'am," Sakura was starting to blabber, something she did when she was either nervous or relieved. "I'll make sure to tell you right away. Would you like some coffee, ma'am? I can send someone to get it for you right away—"

"_Yes_ ma'am. _Certainly_ ma'am. _Right away_, Miss Uchiha! Would you like that coffee on a golden platter, ma'am? A foot-stool, ma'am? Why yes, I'd love to be one for you—!"

"Shut up Naruto!" Sakura shouted through the phone. Satori vaguely heard the echo of the original shout from down the hall. "Wait, Naruto? What are you doing here? I didn't see you come in! How did you—?"

Satori gritted her teeth and purposely refused to look at the idiot. She vaguely wondered if he had meant to mock her or Sakura. Probably both. She forced herself to remain calm.

"Never mind him, Sakura. And speaking of blond-haired bimbos, remind me to speak to my father again about his pre-requisites for hiring."

She deliberately looked at him while saying this.

"Um . . . yes ma'am?" Sakura sounded as if she wasn't sure if she was serious or not. The phone clicked off.

There was a short silence. Satori shifted. She hated pregnant pauses.

"I wasn't avoiding you," she said suddenly. He didn't move, but he didn't rush to prove her otherwise, either.

"I was just . . . trying to finish a project. It was due at the end of the month, which is bad enough, but now I've found out that it's actually due by Friday. If you felt I was being distant, is was because I've seriously been working."

Naruto pondered this. It seemed believable (the barely noticeable dark circles under her eyes gave testimony), and he felt in his gut that part of it was, but . . . he couldn't tell the truth from the lies.

He plastered on the biggest smile he could muster, and it wasn't all fake once he saw the uncomfortable look she was sporting.

"Well, why didn't ya just _say_ _so_?!" he said in a sing-song voice. He immediately lifted up the giant stack of papers from her desk and headed for the door. He cut off her protest as he noisily threw the door open, keeping it in place with the door stop.

"I'll just go take these to Sakura so she can fill them out for ya," he said cheerily. "It's time you started spreading out the work 'round here!"

She scowled at him.

"Those are legal documents I have to sign, you nitwit. What are you going to do, forge my—"

"It's hardly _forging_ if you were gonna sign them anyway," he reasoned. "Why don't you finish up that project you were talking about? Then you won't have to be so anti-social anymore!"

_Damn_, but he was devious. But she could see that no matter what she said or did, he was determined to get his way. And if that meant getting rid of all cause or reason to avoid—avoid, not hide from!—him, then it wasn't worth the energy to fight it.

"Fine," she growled. "Now _leave_."

Giving her a salute, he left. Sighing, she began to relax again. She brought her hands up to rub her eyes in exhaustion. She was so exhausted in fact, that she didn't even jump when he bounced back into the room again.

"_What?_" she barked.

"Nothing. I just think you should leave the door open from now on, is all. It makes you seem more . . . hmm . . . _accessible_."

"If I want the door closed, I'll—" She began to protest.

"I **really** think you should leave the door open," he repeated. The smile was still there, but his eyes were hard.

She grunted and waved him away.

"Anything. Just _go_!"

He mercifully left. For good this time.

She frowned at the now-empty desk. Much as she hated to admit it, taking away the paperwork _did_ free up much of her time . . . maybe now she would be able to finish the sketches?

She reached for the stack of sketches next to her bag, already contemplating her next design, when suddenly—

"_Play that funky muuusic white boy! . . . . Play that funky music __**riiiiiight**__!"_

Naruto had cranked his stereo up as far as it would go, and she just _knew_ it was to make sure she could hear it.

She moaned and dropped her head to her desk. It was _far_ too early for this.

God, it was only _Monday_.

* * *

Satori was a very intelligent woman. Not just book-smart, either. She knew how to read people and predict what they would do or what they would like. It was part of what made her so good at her job. Intuitively knowing your customers came in handy when you worked in the advertising department of a major corporation.

She was also highly competitive. This trait wasn't immediately noticeable at first glance; she was never one to openly challenge someone. But she was determined, above all else, to be the best at what she did. She had taken art classes since childhood to better her designing skills. She had taken all the hardest math and science classes her schools had to offer to prepare her to work with brilliant minds. She became involved in any club or activity that involved financing, government, or business to get the edge on her future competitors.

There was virtually _no one_ better at her job, and anyone who happened to be was at least three times her age, and she consoled herself with the fact that they had simply had a head-start.

She had only one weakness: public-speaking. It was ridiculous how such a common disability—she wasn't _afraid_, she just couldn't _do_ it well—could affect her job so much. She'd never had to impress anyone but her father her whole life, and now she found herself having to convince the most important people in the _company_ that her ideas were the best way to advertise their products to the world. She found herself freezing up before getting the first word out.

It wasn't long before her father intervened. And when her father saw a problem, you _fixed_ it. That's it. No questions asked.

He told her to hire someone to pitch her ideas for her. And while the idea was a heavy blow to her pride and made her clench her teeth to keep from arguing, she agreed. But she insisted on doing the interviews herself. It was important that whoever it was understood how she thought, she had told him.

She didn't mention that the real reason she wanted to do the interviews was because she wanted to make sure whoever it was could be easily cowed into doing whatever she wanted, even if it meant making her coffee and dropping off her dry-cleaning. She _refused_ to have mavericks running around her department.

She didn't begin immediately. How hard could it be to find a subservient yet charming person to fill the position? Besides, she had more important things to work on. Unfortunately, it wasn't long until mounting pressure from her father forced her into action. Sullenly, she asked Sakura to set up the interviews.

The first twelve were a disaster. _Everyone_ had something wrong about them. Some were so nervous they could hardly answer her questions, and flinched when she spoke to them. Others were a little _too_ charming—one man had been so confident he thought he could . . . _**persuade**_ (_wink wink_) her into hiring him. She gave a very subtle threat which involved the means of his future generations and sent him packing.

And just when she'd about given up hope, she found someone.

She was perfect. Clean, intelligent, calm and sure of herself, yet polite. Satori was so impressed (and desperate) that she almost hired her on the spot. Casually, and retaining a sense of professionalism, she asked for a copy of the girl's resume. The girl gave a pleasant smile and said she'd love to, just let her get it out of her bag.

And when she leaned over to pick it up, the girl's shirt rode up marginally in the back . . .

. . . and Satori saw _the_ most hideous tramp stamp she had _ever_ seen.

She all but threw the girl out of her office.

Out of time, and out of options, Satori sulked the next few hours at her desk, dreading telling her father she hadn't found a single candidate worthy of the position. Finally she worked up the courage enough to go. She told Sakura she was going to be out for the next hour (her father's temper had the endurance of a triathlete), and dragged her feet all the way up to the top floor to meet him.

She hadn't expected him to have company.

At first all she could see of him was a mess of blond hair sitting in one of the high-backed, overstuffed chairs of the CEO's office.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'll come back when you're not busy." She was closing the door when he called her back in.

"Please, sit with us Satori. This concerns you as well."

Her stomach twisted. That was never a good thing to hear from your boss, even if he is your father. She sat down carefully, smoothing out her pencil skirt and being careful to sit up straight. She glanced briefly at the man next to her, and blinked.

He was so bright it was almost blinding. His vivid yellow hair stuck straight out of his head, his bangs falling over onto the biggest baby-blue eyes she had ever seen. His complexion told her he spent plenty of time in the sun, and there wasn't a single blemish on him apart from a few, hair-thin scars on each cheek. He wore a pair of loose cargo pants ('In the office of the CEO!' she thought with horror), sneakers, and a black t-shirt that practically clung to his tan, well-toned torso—

Satori quickly looked away, realizing she had been (she tried not to blush) _checking_ this man out. A total _stranger_, and she had been _ogling_ him! Her! She hoped he hadn't noticed.

Though if that smirk on his face was anything to go by, he most _certainly_ had.

Fortunately, her father had been preoccupied with speaking to one of his secretaries on the speaker, and had missed the whole episode. By the time he looked up, she was facing forward again, cool and collected once more.

"Satori, I understand you've been having difficulties finding yourself a . . . personal speaker."

Satori tried not to flinch at his tone. He had been disappointed with her particular short-coming, though he had never said so straight out. It was a stab at her pride to know that, but what could she do?

"Yes sir," –she never called him father while working—"I'm afraid that no one I've interviewed has managed to fit my credentials. Perhaps if I had more time . . .?"

The last part was a long-shot, but—

"No, Satori. You've had plenty of time, and I have some important clients coming in a few days and I need to know you are . . . _prepared_."

She held her tongue. How could she argue? Besides, it sounded as if he was leading up to something.

She tried to ignore the fact that the man was staring at her—he hadn't stopped since she'd sat down. And he _still_ had that smirk on his face, the creep.

"Therefore, I myself have taken over the responsibility of finding someone for you. And I believe I finally have! Satori, let me introduce you to this _fine_ young man here. He's fresh out of graduate school, and top in his class! I'm hoping to find him a position in the company very soon. Satori, meet Naruto Uzumaki. He is to be your new spokesperson. Naruto, this is my daughter Satori. She's the one you will be working with from now on."

Satori's eyes widened despite herself. This guy?! She couldn't believe it. Her father expected her to be able to work with some cocky, overconfident, arrogant, inexperienced, good-looking—but she was digressing.

Don't ask her how she knew all these things; his stupid grinning was enough to tell her. Mostly she was still trying to recover from the fact that her father thought her so irresponsible that he had to hire her employees for her. Not to mention he had said they would be working _together_, not that he would be working _for_ her. That meant she couldn't order him around. Why was he so excited about this guy anyway? If he was fresh out of school, he had probably little to no experience actually _working_, so why—?

Oh, wait. His _name_.

"Naruto Uzumaki," she said. It was an effort not to growl the name. "That is . . . Japanese, is it not?"

Her father beamed.

"Indeed it is! I was surprised myself when I found out, considering his unusual appearance, but it turns out his paternal grandparents came from the father country! What do you think of _that_?"

Of course, she thought grimly. That would be the case, wouldn't it? Her father was so infatuated with his home country of Japan (though he hadn't lived there since he was a teenager), that he went so far as to give anyone with even the slightest hint of Japanese in them preference over others. It wasn't coincidence that nearly all of the people on Satori's (and almost every other) floor had Japanese roots.

She forced a smile.

"What do I think?" she piped, sporting a forced smile. "Why, he's practically _family_!"

The sarcasm was missed by her father, not that she had tried to make it evident. He only clapped his hands together in satisfaction, much in the same way he did when he had successfully came to an agreement with his clients.

"Excellent! I'm glad you like him, since you two will be working so closely together from now on."

His phone began to ring, and it was then Satori knew the conversation was over. Her father had a company to run, and he wasn't going to waste any more time on them. Her father quickly picked up the phone, raising his hand in a dismissive manner.

Satori bowed her head and stood.

"Follow me," she whispered to the other man in a clipped tone, and headed for the door.

As soon as they were out of ear-shot, she turned on him, all semblances of good humor gone from her expression. Blondie stopped in his tracks, surprised.

"Look here, _Uzumaki_," she said slowly. "I want to make a few things clear before we begin 'working closely.' One: there will be _**no**_ 'working closely.' If I need you, I will call for you myself to tell you what needs to be done. Two: It wasn't I who hired you, it was my father—do not expect me to be thrilled about that. And three: there will be no more of this _casual_ wear you are currently flaunting. Anyone working under me is to look and act professional at all times. Do you understand?"

"Sure," he chirped. He was _still_ grinning. "Just one question: does acting _professional_ also include checking out future employees?"

Satori tried to look affronted. The _nerve_ of this man! But she only felt her face grow hot, and she turned away stiffly to march down the hall.

"Do not make the mistake of becoming too bold, Mr. Uzumaki," she warned.

She heard him following her, chuckling.

"Ok, ok, sorry," he said in a soothing tone. She relaxed, thinking the situation was back under control, when: "What are your rules for checking out _bosses_, then?"

Satori couldn't stop blushing for the rest of the day.

Working with Naruto wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

It was so, _soooo_ much worse.

The first thing he had managed to do was become close friends with nearly everyone on her floor. In any other situation she might have approved; it surely made integrating him into the department easier. But in his case, it only proved to spark insubordination within the ranks. Before he arrived, she could snap her fingers, and things would get done, no questions asked. Now she found herself constantly having to check on her underlings' progress (which she did _not_ have time for). Not only that, but any semblance of respect for her had been decimated. Nowadays, whenever she entered a room, everyone would become quiet and exchange glances. And Naruto would be sitting there in the middle, just grinning away.

He had hardly been there two months now, and he had destroyed the entire configuration of her department. Her authority had been undermined, and his had steadily begun to rise. That's not to say she didn't still have power; she _was_ the top dog on her floor, as well as the daughter of the CEO. But she had never had to share with anyone before. Especially not with someone who had just _graduated_ for goodness sake (she had been working here since the end of high school!), had no idea about the fashion world (judging by the t-shirt and jeans he insisted on wearing every single day), and had absolutely no respect for her (he wouldn't even bother knocking before barging into her office).

Oh, _why_ hadn't she just kept the girl with the tramp stamp? Something like that could be covered up and forgotten. Naruto on the other hand . . . .

This went on for a whole month. One long, torturous month. Satori started locking up and hiding in her office after the second week, which was what finally led Naruto to sneak in there so early and give her a surprise visit. Now he seemed to be making up for lost time by being even more obnoxious than usual.

Stomping around the floor. Shouting to people from across the room. Playing music at such an obscene volume than people from the floors below and above has started to complain. That last one had finally forced her hand, and—gathering up as much authority as she could muster—she gathered everyone into the meeting room, determined to give him a lashing in front of everyone.

But that little bastard . . . that smug little _bastard_ actually had the gall to grin at her the whole time she was scolding him! And when she was finished, he put on an overly-childish pout and said to her:

"But Moooooom," he whined. "All the **_cool_** kids are doing it. Why you gotta be such a **_downer_**?"

The snickering was immediate. She sent a glare around the room at the rest of them, which shut them up, but they still had those damned gleeful looks on their faces.

And _Naruto._ His grin was big enough to rival the Cheshire Cat's. Satori felt her face burn with an unbearable mixture of anger and humiliation. No one had ever, _ever_ even _dared_ to talk back to her, much less mock her in front of her entire staff! The worst part was that she was completely unprepared for this kind of scenario, and had no idea what she was supposed to do. Desperate to get out of the situation, but trying not to lose face, she gave him the fiercest look she could muster (a glare that had literally made men cry), and told him she would not tolerate such insubordination, and that he had better watch his tongue in the future.

That swiped the smiles from all their faces. But not his. Naruto was as pleased as ever, and the pleasant look on his face followed her as she strode from the room.

All bark and no bite. And they both knew it.

She snarled. _ Damn_ it!

* * *

The next day she approached her father. The secretaries let her into his waiting room immediately, in accordance to her rank and relation. Her father, on the other hand, made her wait nearly an hour before giving her an audience. She entered the room with a low bow before taking a seat in the patent leather chair.

"Yes, what is it Satori?" he asked in a slightly put-upon manner, not looking up from the papers he was reading.

Satori sat up straight in her chair, trying not to show how nervous she was. Her father was intimidating enough during _Christmas_, for God's sake, not to mention when he was busy working.

"Excuse me sir, I do not mean to intrude on your time, but," she fought to keep her voice steady. "I'm afraid I have a . . . negative review of one of my employees, and—"

"You have a complaint about someone I've hired." He clarified, looking up at her. She mentally frowned and grumbled. 'Complaint' made it sound like she was a tattling little kid. And how did he know it was someone he'd hired? Then again, if she had hired them, she would finish it herself and not involve him.

She didn't defend herself on the 'complaint' comment. "Yes sir, I do."

'C'mon girl, you can do this,' she thought. 'This can't be as bad as having to go through the embarrassment Naruto put you through yesterday, right? Imagine stuff like that happening for the next few years!'

That though gave her enough courage to continue.

"It's about the man you hired a month ago, Uzumaki Naruto."

Ah, that got his attention. His daughter had a complaint about his new favorite employee.

'Guess which one of us holds more weight in his mind,' she thought sarcastically (but in no way bitterly).

"What seems to be the problem?" he said, his voice just short of a growl.

_Breathe_, Satori, _breathe_.

"His behavior has been . . . unprofessional," she admitted slowly. "I feel as if he is not taking his job as seriously as he should. He—"

"Has his work been unsatisfactory?" he demanded, his mouth set in a thin line.

_No_, she admitted, _Damn it_. Not if his amazing save during their last meeting was anything to go by. The way he convinced those clients to go with their products instead of their competitor's was absolutely brilliant, as much as she hated to say it. Ugh. The man just _oozed_ charm.

"His work is indeed . . . satisfactory, sir, but—"

"Then I fail to see the problem," her father concluded. Determining the issue finished, he returned to his papers.

It was her cue to leave. And she almost did. She got as far as putting her hands on the chair arms to push herself up, when—

"_**But Moooooom!" **_The memory still haunted her._** "All the cool kids are—"**_

"Sir, I really must insist." She blurted, cutting that memory short. This _had_ to be finished today.

He wasn't expecting this. He looked back up again sharply.

"Excuse me?" he said, voice low.

"I believe that Mr. Uzumaki has an unconstructive influence on my staff," she said bluntly. "He has far too much free time between meetings, and uses that time to disturb and interrupt the rest of my employees. I feel as if he . . . is building discontent with my authority on my own floor."

There, she said it. Now to wait.

Her father watched her through dark, narrow eyes. His hands were folded in front of his face, hiding much of his expression. Her heart beat painfully in her chest. Finally, he spoke.

"Any insubordination is not the fault of the staff, but of the director. Do you understand? Why should the dog be punished if the master is incompetent in training it?"

And that was the heaviest blow yet. _Incompetent_. The word stung at her gut and made the blood rush to her head. He thought she was . . . she felt weak. A foreign heat was building up behind her eyes, which she realized with horror was the beginning of tears. She had to get out of there. _Now_.

"Yes sir, I understand. I apologize for taking up your time. _Gomen nasai_."

She bowed, and practically ran from the room.

Oh God oh God oh God, but this humiliation was even worse than what Naruto had given her, and—

And speak of the devil.

He was standing right there. Right outside the doors to her father's office. She didn't know why he was there. Maybe he had something to say to her father. Maybe he had noticed her absence and decided to follow. Whatever it was, she did know one thing:

The door, while thick and impressive looking, was not (since she could still hear her father's voice coming through as he spoke on the phone) soundproof. He had heard everything.

And Satori, an avid believer that looked down on strong language, thought simply:

**Shit.**

*** * ***

Surprisingly, he didn't seem to take it personally. There were a few awkward moments as she stood there, face burning, and him, face as close to expressionless as she'd ever seen it. Then he'd beamed like normal, said something she didn't comprehend (the blood was pumping in her ears so loud she couldn't hear), and walked away as if nothing had happened, leaving her to stand alone. It took a minute to gather herself, and she let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.

Maybe . . . he hadn't heard. Perhaps he had just gotten there as she exited?

Maybe. Maybe. Oh God.

The next day, she felt a little better. She had spent the previous night setting a list of goals for herself. She wasn't going to take what her father said so personally. He was a harsh man, but if he really thought her so incompetent (she shuddered at the word), she wouldn't still be working at his company.

Also, she determined that she wasn't going to take Uzumaki's treatment lying down. If that meant getting her hands dirty and having to punish him, then so be it. It was time she lived up to her Uchiha name and ruled with an iron fist.

Also, she—

She coughed on her Diet Coke as she felt something wet dribbling down the front of her jacket.

Reaching for the box of Kleenex on her desk, she quickly dabbed as much of it off her and the desk as possible. Luckily, none of it got onto her drawings. She heaved a sigh of relief; it would have taken her hours to redo those.

What had that been about? She wasn't a sloppy drinker, so how had she missed? She picked up the can again, tipped it to her mouth slowly, and—

There! She immediately righted the can again and set it down. This time she managed to keep anymore from spilling, and could now see the problem: there was a small hole near the rim of the can. It was small—just small enough to be near-invisible. But she saw it.

This wasn't just some flaw in the can. This was deliberate. Her diet soda had been sabotaged.

But worse than that, her jacket was ruined. She didn't think that Diet Coke would stain, but she couldn't wear it the rest of the day with a huge wet spot, that was for sure. Irritably, she shrugged it off and hung it up.

Who had done this? Sure, it wasn't the worst thing that could happen—it was a junior high level prank at best. But the fact that anyone had the gall to do something like this . . . how had they even gotten into her office anyway?

Whoever it was, she would have to find out later. She'd hold a meeting, and . . . she remembered how the last department meeting had gone. It she tried to hold an interrogation to find out who did it, who knew what Naruto would do? Probably tease her about needing a sippy-cup in the future.

Her face got red just thinking about it.

She checked the time on the clock. Whatever she chose to do, she could think about it later. Right now she had to go make some copies. Picking up a stack of drawings, she exited her office (locking it behind her, a habit she'd gotten into the last few weeks), and made her way to the copy room. With a task in mind, she let the injustice of having her soda ruined flow from her mind, and she started to feel a little better.

A mop of blonde hair caught her attention, and she stopped just in time to keep from striding into Naruto, who had rolled out of his own office on his wheeled desk chair. She froze, clutching her papers to her chest like a shield and preparing for the worst.

His face was innocent, though, and his eyes looked her up and down with mild interest. Then he beamed, doing a mock solute with two fingers.

"Hiya, boss!" He greeted cheerfully. "Batgirl's finally leaving her cave, huh? Where are ya going?"

She unclenched her teeth to answer.

"I have to make copies. Excuse me."

She made to move around him when he said, "You know, there's something different about you."

He said it slowly, thoughtfully. Feeling suspicious (when was she not with him?), she turned back.

"How so?"

"I don't know. Just different," he tapped the pencil he was holding against his lips meditatively. Suddenly, he perked. "I got it! It's your outfit, isn't it?"

She paused. Then: _**bing**_! Lightbulb**.** Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I could have sworn you had a jacket on earlier, didn't you? Oh well, must have imagined it! I'll let you get back to work now. Until next time!"

And with that, he spun around, grabbed onto the sides of his doorway, and pushed himself back in, shutting the door behind him.

Satori stood there seething for almost a minute, wondering if it was worth the jail time and her job to kick down his door and start strangling him right there and then. God, it was tempting.

No, that wasn't the answer. She turned, slowly, and continued to the copier room. She took deep breaths through her nose to help calm down. It wasn't like she hadn't dealt with bullies like this before in high school. And she'd handled herself fine back then. She was just caught off guard because she was an adult now and had thought those times were over. Apparently not.

Well, if that's the way he wanted to be, so be it. Satori wasn't such a bad prankster herself.

* * *

DUM DUM DUM! Cliffhanger. Sorry. I really do intend to keep going, but it's late, and I have a soccer game tomorrow. Please feel free to review. Do you like where this is going? Suggestions? Critiques? Obviously nothing unhelpful, but I can take criticism.

Good thing I'm on spring break right now. I can keep going on this starting tomorrow, without having to wait. Thank you Jesus, for dying and rising again (but in a completely non-zombie way). We kids love you for it!


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